


Working Stiff

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, College Student Stiles, Established Relationship, M/M, Peter's not an alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 06:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wow, I’m dating a guy with a regular job and a mortgage.  I’m dating you with a regular job and a mortgage.  Corporate Ken Doll, huh.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Working Stiff

It’s not even worth trying to sneak up on Peter, he’s certainly already aware of Stiles’ presence.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks, yawning hugely.

“Little bit of work, go back to bed,” Peter replies, looking at his computer monitor.

Stiles flops into a chair and reaches for one of the files on the desk, getting his hand slapped.  “Hey!”

“I’m said, I’m working, Stiles.  It’s after midnight, go back to bed, I’ll be in soon.”

“Working?  What are you doing? Is there something new in town?”

“No, I’m working-working. Waiting for an email on a trade I’m putting through the London Stock Exchange.  Shouldn’t be long,” Peter glances at his screen and gives a quick, preoccupied smile.

“Trade?  What kind of trade?”

Peter stacks up the files next to him, rearranging the order before he shoves them in a drawer.  “Simple stock purchase.  Just work, don’t worry about it.”

“There is nothing about that sentence that I don’t need explained.  Work?  Stock Exchange? Like investment stuff?”

He glances at the clock on the wall above his desk before answering.  “Yes, stocks and investment stuff.  My job, basically.  I’m an investment broker, so that generally involves investment stuff.”

“Really?  For yourself or your family or who?”

“Well, I handle my money of course.  Only a little bit of Derek’s, because he doesn’t trust me.”  Peter gives a giant, cheesy grin.  “And my assigned clients.”

Stiles eyes go wide.  “Assigned clients?  Like real, ordinary innocent people?  You have their money?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Peter says and Stiles watches as he flips through a couple of screens, going back to where he started.  “Yes, I work for a real, licensed company and I have clients and I make lots of money for them.  And for my employer and for me.  I did this before the fire, too. Why is that shocking?”

“Well, it’s just…kinda normal and everything.”

“Believe it or not, I can’t pay the mortgage with just my stunning good looks and dazzling personality.  The bank wants money, the bastards.”

Stiles scratches a new bite on the back of his neck and looks at Peter carefully.  “Wow, I’m dating a guy with a regular job and a mortgage.  I’m dating _you_ with a regular job and a mortgage.  Corporate Ken Doll, huh.”

Peter sighs and flips through his screens again.  “I sent a resume to Stark Industries, but they don’t need any more geniuses and they’re also fictional.”  He turns and finally gives Stiles his full attention.   “Are you seriously upset?  Is this somehow disappointing?”

“No, not at all Peter, it’s just unexpected is all.”  Stiles gives his hand a squeeze.  “And I guess I feel like I should have known this.  Why didn’t I know this?”

“Hmm.”  Peter kisses Stiles’ knuckles and nips gently.  “When you were in high school, you were too busy being chased by supernatural things and when you weren’t, you were a self-absorbed teenager.  The summer you turned 18, I think we were too occupied to talk about mundane things like work.  And college has been busy and this is the first time you’ve been home and not constantly working on papers.”

“Maybe.  Self-absorbed, huh?  Yeah, probably.  But you can’t tell me you would have preferred talking about your work this summer.”  Stiles points to the monitor. “Email in.”

Peter pulls his hand back and quickly checks his messages and moves through several screens, muttering to himself before he sits back. “That’s done.  One more and I’m done ‘til morning.  Go back to bed, I’ll be in shortly.”

“I’ll wait,” Stiles replies, shrugging. “Unless I’m bugging you.”

“Never.  Well hardly ever.” Peter smiles. “Not to where I can’t ignore you if necessary.”

“Good, I think.  So do you go to an office?”

Peter leans back in his chair, clasping his hands over his stomach.  “Occasionally.  If there’s a meeting or I have to see a client or something.  Most things can be done on the phone or email.”

“Man, I can’t picture that.  You meeting with your boss or a client.  Do you have a suit?” Stiles asks, grinning.

“Of course, Stiles, I’m an adult, I have several suits.  And yes, I meet with my boss and I meet with clients.  When people trust you with large amounts of their money, sometimes you have to talk with them.”

The younger man leans forward and squints.  “People trust you with large amounts of their money?  And you make money for them?  And how much is a large amount?”

“A large amount is enough to make the fee for a private broker to make sense.  And yes, I make money for them.  Trust me?  I suppose they do, don’t they?  We discuss how comfortable they are with risk.” Peter’s grin is not-at-all predatory.

“Probably  not the same discussions we’ve had, I hope.  This is fascinating, Peter.  You said Derek doesn’t trust you with his money?”

Peter sighs.  “No, not much.  I match an equal amount of my money to his and let him know everything I’m doing, but he stays suspicious.  If he had his way, he’d probably keep his money in a bank earning half a percent.  Or buried in the woods or shoved under his mattress.”

“Well you guys do have some trust issues to get over,” Stiles says, nodding thoughtfully.  “You kill his sister, he kills you…history’s not so good there.  But you make money and you don’t like…steal anyone’s life savings, right?”

“It’s been over a week since I put a poor widow-lady out of her house with her four children in tow.  I would have tied her to a train track, but it wasn’t convenient for me at the time.” Peter checks his screens again, and holds up a finger to Stiles.  “One minute, let me check this.”

“You look good doing this, I can kind of see it.  Kind of a control thing, right?  And you don’t get your hands dirty.  This makes more sense for you than what Derek does.”

“Umm, yes,” Peter says, typing furiously.  “Although Derek is content with his job.  Highway repair during the middle of the night suits him.  It’s loud and the asphalt stinks, but I know he likes being outdoors and he likes physical labor.”  He smiles and pushes his chair back, shutting the laptop.  “He says he eats breakfast with the rest of the road crew at the end of his shift.  Apparently, he’s likable.”

Stiles nods.  “Well, good, good for him.   So this job of yours – do you have a briefcase?  If you became an alpha again, would you quit?

“This feels like twenty questions.  Yes.  As I said, I don’t go into the office often, but when I do, I carry a briefcase.   And yes, I suppose I’d keep my job in the event I become an alpha again.  That position doesn’t pay well.  Why are you asking?”

“Do you have your own office?” Stiles asks, grinning.

“No.”  Peter shakes his head.  “No, I do not have an office, since I’m hardly ever there.  And no, I will not bring you to the office and ‘do you’ in the conference room, or whatever you’re thinking of that’s making you smell like that.”

“Rude, Peter.”  Stiles yawns again, stretching and watching Peter watching him.  “So, you’re done for the night?  Come back to bed and I’ll let you blow me.”

“Let me?  Oh honey, that’s so cute.  Get your ass back to bed before I decide to tie you to a train track.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first Peter/Stiles fic. I decided they really need jobs, Derek's loft in California would probably be expensive.


End file.
